The Dragonborn and the Forsworn King
by KatjaReads
Summary: The Dragonborn has come to the Reach! After exposing the Forsworn conspiracy, the Jarl calls upon her to strike down the remaining forces scattered across the wild. But she can't do it alone. With the aid of Vorstag, a local ranger and sell-sword, the Dragonborn goes deep into the Reach while unknowingly being stalked by a new sinister evil.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

* * *

At the Silver-Blood Inn, the city folk swarm around me like flies as I sit by the hearth receiving exultant praise. My cup never empties as Frobbi, the inn keeper's wife, constantly refills it with every sip I take with my drink of choice, Argonian Bloodwine, as the peeving merriment cheers of the citizens of Markarth continues to buzz in my pointed ears.

By Azura's Star! Just go away!

This is the second time in my entire life I am surrounded by a large group of locals who are smitten with me. As if they've just discovered the moon and stars! An absolute awestruck people! Even though, I haven't been in Skyrim long, I am quickly becoming known throughout the holds. Why in just a matter of days I was bestowed upon the honorable title Thane of Whiterun and less than a week after received a missive from the Jarl of Falkreath. Within two months, I became Thane in two holds. Admired, envied or scorned-either way-respected! Praised by the lavishly proud nobles and the humble wondering farmers. It's actually all still something of an enigma. And why wouldn't it be considering how I first arrived on Skyrim soil? Lost. Frightened. A dirty hungry little nobody. I truly believed I was brought here to die. Perhaps this is still true, but one cannot deny the tremendous gift of opportunity.

The adoration of the people of Markarth is different compared to folks from the previous holds. They're louder and vigorous to a fault. They're like eager ants fawning and crowding closer itching for the chance to pay tribute as if I were the fat gyne. This unnerving pampering never would have happened if I had not taken that odd job from the Breton called Eltrys. He hired me to uncover a sinister truth in Markarth after he witnessed me saving a woman's life from a Forsworn agent.

But I did not know who or what a Forsworn was.

Well, I know now. And damn it, like everything else since I arrived in Skyrim it's just one hot mess after another. Unfortunately, uncovering the truth behind the Forsworn conspiracy cost Eltrys his life, rest his soul, and me in Cidhna Mine Prison for his murder. All this after just barely being in the city for twenty-four hours!

Fucking fantastic.

After discovering more grisly details and involvement of all the other prisoners in the conspiracy, I honored my deal with Eltrys by incinerating every single inmate in the mine. Only their leader, Madanach, remained.

I raise my cup and gulp down the wine hoping to drown the king in rags from my thoughts.

Although I enjoyed wiping that stupid smug off the wretched man's face, I admit, it was an absolute overkill. Madanach may have committed horrible crimes, but there was no need to cast Wall of Storms.

Over. And over.

Again. And again.

Until his own blood boiled him alive. Lashing out at me as his flesh melted off his bones. His very blood evaporating before my crazed eyes. I didn't stop until he was dust. Like seasoned warriors, mages must maintain strict discipline and self-control. None now live who witnessed my shame, but malicious echoes from the dark depts of memory resurface like a prowling basilisk. A heavy judgmental silence pushing down harder and harder-smothering!

Frobbi refills my cup taking the meaning of my trembling hand as a sign. I take another swig and she fills it again. The horde of flies is still buzzing witlessly around me until Kleppr, the innkeeper, and his son stroll over, dispersing the merry bunch.

"Come on now that's enough," setting a wooden table in front of me followed by his son setting down a platter of medium well-done steak, grilled leeks, sliced apples and cheese. "Really, wife of mine, take better care our honored guest is not being overly drooled on at every moment," scolds Kleppr.

"Oh really?" the inn keeper's feisty wife matching her husband's tone. "Well, husband o' mine, better get ye a wipe seein' as ye missed a spot!" mimicking a trail of dribble with her finger from her mouth as onlooks roar with laughter.

And there goes the happy couple who argue simply for the sake of it as I discovered during my earlier visit of inquiries. I've since begun to suspect it is their odd form of foreplay. With a weary sigh, my tensed muscles finally slacken in the humble chair as a grayed warrior bard begins to strum his lute rousing further attention of the crowd. Despite the uplifting tune and energetic atmosphere, I lethargically mix the thick cut slices of meat with the leeks, taking small bites.

It was dawn when I finally escaped from the mine. But to my total amazement, Thonar Silver-Blood was waiting for me and in possession of all my confiscated goods, which he immediately returned. The same rat whom locked me up in the first place! Apparently, I did him and everyone in the city, _but mostly Thonar_ , a huge favor by dispatching the ragged king and ultimately caught the attention of the Jarl himself. I was quickly washed, dressed and summoned to appear before Jarl Igmund at Understone Keep, and to Thonar's relief and despair, told a watered-down tale of my exploits. In return for not exposing Thonar's foolish antics of endangering the entire city in order to fatten his own pockets, the Nord was kind to grant me a sizable settlement for my inconvenience. Plus, free meals and the nicest room at the Silver-Blood Inn every time I am in town.

You're welcome, Silverfish.

After the Jarl apologized for Thonar's misguided behavior, he spoke of the turmoil that plagues his realm while inquiring about any truth to the delicate rumor of who I am. And just like the previous two Jarls whom I now serve, Igmund requested if I'd assume the task to hunt down rabid Forsworn and recover a stolen family treasure; Hrolfdir's Shield. In return, he will grant me the title Thane of the Reach.

Still more than a little unhinged about the Cidhna Mine spectacle, I almost told the Jarl to sod off, but held my tongue. He would pay me (double!) for my noble deeds, and although I could always use the coin, what truly won me over was the mention of a dragon. A dragon had been sighted prowling the skies close to Markarth. While the city of stone is in no danger, the people who live outside the protective walls were not safe. I promptly agreed to help thin out the Forsworn threat, retrieve the missing shield, and to the Jarl's great relief accepted llthe mission of slaying the dragon. For if a dragon is near, then most certainly so is a word of power.

Power.

The very reason for my journey.

The very reason why I exist.

"You sure know how to have a good time, outsider."

The sudden Nordic drawl makes me pause in the middle of chewing. My clenched teeth grind the fresh apple I'm chewing into a fine paste as I send a chafed glance in the direction of the playful tone. A large man wearing scaled pelted armor has taken the vacant seat to my right of the stoned hearth with a cup in his hand. The comforting glow of the fire illuminates the red Nordic leaf pattern tattooed on the right side of his face. A hardened man with a strong jaw, but his toothy grin reveals his youthful features. He can't be more than thirty. Early to mid-thirties? A man grown and still in his prime, but by mer standards still a youth.

"Political scandal, murder, and jail break. What else do you do for fun?" chuckles the stranger taking a swig of his drink.

I don't want to answer him and encourage more conversation. Instead, I blatantly return his amused stare hoping he will take the hint, but he continues to watch me from behind his cup. A full minute of silence goes between us as the idle chatter and heavenly lute playing seem to fade in the background making the populated warm cozy atmosphere feel more intimate. We sat there each summing up the other. The Nord's brown stringy hair reaches his shoulders and has lightly tanned skin. He's body is strong like an ox with huge biceps that would make an Orc envious. The flames reflect a humorous glint in his dark brown eyes. A complete contrast to myself.

A toned dunmer, with full bodied black hair reaching between my shoulder blades and two smalls braids on either side of my head. I have abnormally pale gray skin even for my kind, high cheek bones, and full lips the color of red wine. My eyes are bigger. Bright ruby red eyes enhanced further by the matching red colored tattoos, which begin at the end of each eye and curve inward down my thin face toward my ears making it appear as if blood is literally bleeding from my eyes. Coincidentally, the housecarl in Whiterun also has the same tattoo design only hers are purple.

What a bitch.

Normally not one to succumb to a charming face, I am suddenly anxious by the presence of this stranger and jerk when I realize how drawn I am to his penetrating gaze. Regaining my composure allowing curiosity to get the better of me I respond flatly.

"Dragons," turning away, I eat another apple.

"Aye, sounds about right," he says while laughing never taking his eyes off me. "Considering the odd rumor about you."

I pause in the middle of slicing a piece of cheese.

Uh-huh.

This wouldn't be the first time someone has approached me. Dropping hints. Openly asking. Better yet, outright demanding a demonstration. He is not the first and will not be the last. Once in a while during my travels, I will run into a colossal prick puffing out his chest like a horker in heat. Sometimes it's an Orc, maybe Redguard, but mostly a Nord. Usually, it's because they heard the rumor about a _wee_ _little Elf_ possessing the ancient Nord art.

The audacity of fools!

I don't have to prove anything. Instead, I kindly show fools the error of their ways using what little magic I've managed to reawaken and force them in their proper place: their heads under my boot. Occasionally, depending on the situation, I might humor them and grant his or her wish and ' _demonstrate_ ' for them. Preferably off a cliff. With the possibility of this seemingly friendly encounter turning ugly, I turn to the man.

"And just what might that be?"

He finishes off his drink wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You're goin' hunting."

"What?"

"The Forsworn," he says matter of fact. "Word is the Jarl appointed you to track down a whole pack of em."

"That ain't the only word goin' about," I stated in a mocking Nord drawl. In response, the stranger's grin only widens. His eyes gleam with humor making no effort to refute.

"Word also says, he's paying you double."

"Yep."

"And you plan on goin' alone."

"And _you_ want to tag along and tap in on some quick cash," the tension in my muscles ease as the Nord's identity and motives become clear. Observing non-hostile intentions, I return to my meal. "Thanks, but no." I respond curtly.

"The Forsworn are nowhere, yet everywhere. You'll need a guide if you want to find them," he replies as he signals Frobbi for a refill. "Especially since this is your first time in the Reach."

I pause after I swallow a slice of steak and leaks as the stranger still watches me with amused confidence. "I'll manage."

"Oh, I don't doubt it," he nods in agreement. "However, I've grown up my whole life in the Reach and dealt with many a Forsworn savage to know one cannot fully depend on magic."

Before I can protest such nonsense, the Nord continues.

"Don't misunderstand," he says while leaning closer resting one hand on his knee as some of the humor in his tone turns somber. "It's not impossible to defeat them using magic as you clearly demonstrated in the mine, but nonetheless, they are more resilient toward it, which is why if you intend to fight magic with magic it's wise to have backup who's skilled with a blade."

Unfortunately, his words stung true. It may not have been a challenge to take out all the Forsworn inmates in the mine, but it was a long process and definitely wasn't easy. Until I fought Madanach, I was backed up in a corner and it took a lot of effort to keep those scoundrels at a forced distance on top of dodging counter spells. The difficulty was due to the vexing combination of the Forsworns' sturdiness against magic and my still weakened state. I may have come a long way on my quest to regain my power, but I have longer still to go. The more I fight, the stronger I become. And more eager to the point it has made me reckless. Besides the mine, I have already experienced my fair share of close calls fighting bandits, witches, dragons-

Draugr.

Shuddering, I take a hurried swig.

The probability I will come into contact with a strong mage in the wild Reach, particularly in a group, is high since almost all the Forsworn agents I have met so far possess some kind of magic. And to add to my troubles, it is evidently obvious to everyone I have little skill with a blade further proven by the Nord's comment and his inquiring eyes briefly resting on my dagger. I only ever learned the basics of using a dagger and short swords as a last result. My parents believed tangible weapons to be primitive used only by inferior beings.

Which is ironic because it's what killed them.

It wasn't until I joined the Companions when I held a real sword for the very first time. Against the desires of the inner circle, I refused to learn the _honorable_ art of swordplay preferring to focus on my true strengths but did agree to expand my schooling with a small blade. Nevertheless, I am no master and there's no guarantee the lone ebony weapon I possess will serve me should I be in dire need.

Silence drifts between us as I process the weight of the man's words. I straighten in my chair turning to the mercenary, appraising his potential as a protective wall of meat. "I need to go deep into the Reach and if I'm understanding correctly, _sir_ , I demand a true soldier not some gold-digging sell sword."

"I wouldn't use the term _sell sword_ ," a small smile graces his lips as he straightens. "I'm what you call a soldier of fortune. Make me an offer, and I just might fight at your side."

The stranger's piercing dark eyes delve deeper into my own staunch gaze. Once again, time seems to cease as the rambunctious inn continues around us. Taking a deep breath, I turn back toward the hearth exhaling in contemplation. I have never had hired help before not even from my first official housecarl Lydia who is still housesitting back in Whiterun. And Farkas doesn't count because he was required to witness my glory. I've always gone alone and managed to return victorious. Why would I start now?

"Whether you like it or not, woman, you need me," continues the Nord as if sensing my thoughts. "I know every rock and tree aligning every known and hidden road from the tallest mountain in the Reach to the smallest hillside. I know all the dangerous and safest routes. The ways and the common hideouts of the Forsworn. Hire me, take me on as your guide and I guarantee your protection."

"I don't need your protection," turning back to the stranger sternly.

Clearly amused, the man chuckles as he crosses his arms giving me another look over. "No, perhaps not," he says still grinning. "But you'll have it none the less." The mercenary rises and then shockingly takes a knee causing more of a stir from the nattering guests. Reaching to his hip, he takes his axe and places the blade carefully at my feet then locks his deep gaze onto mine.

"By the Nine, I swear my blade to you if you'll have me."

My lips part taking in a quick breath. It's almost as if he's proposing!

"We will see," I shift in my seat as I clear my throat. Looking away, I smooth out my master mage attire trying to downplay the warmth rushing to my cheeks. "Now get up you're making a scene," I hiss.

The Nord slowly stands and sits back into his own chair still watching me the curious banter of the onlooks returning to their own business.

"I assume you are leaving at dawn?" asks the Nord.

"You assume correct," still not looking at him.

"I'll meet you at the stables."

"I haven't agreed to anything yet," turning back to him.

"Yet," he replies with a knowing smile.

Narrowing my eyes, I wave toward Frobbi and request food be made for tomorrow's journey. "How much?" I say humoring the Nord.

"Five hundred now another five hundred after you no longer need my service, plus, a cut of any bounty we find."

Giving off a light huff, I mildly shake my head. What AM I doing? I don't even know him! Mercenaries are common in inns, yes, but who is to say one won't turn out to be a fraud? Or in this city a Forsworn agent in Nord skin?

"Unbelievable."

"You won't regret it," not realizing I muttered my thoughts aloud, the Nord replies thinking I was referring to his asking price. "I am the Ranger of the Reach. The Bane of all Forsworn. And," his eyes look directly into mine. "I know where you can find your dragon."

 _And sold!_

I examine the bulk of the man once more. Not an ounce of fat on his solid frame. All muscle and looks as if he should be wielding a large two-handed ax instead of a puny one-hander. It is urgent that I finish this mission quickly. A guide would be most beneficial to speed things along. This man does appear genuine, and now that we've spoken I seem to recall he was here yesterday when I was talking to the Imperial woman after her assault. A local Reachman indeed.

"Name."

"Vorstag,"

Gingerly easing out of my chair, I move toward him casually leaning over him to rest one hand on the back of his chair the other on my hip. His eyes widen, surprised by my abrupt familiarity. I surprise myself, besides, two can play that game. I study his dark bronze eyes for signs of falsehoods longer than necessary not caring how my actions could be interpreted. Instead, my thoughts wonder what his eyes would look like if caught in the sun's light.

"Vooorsstaaag," tasting his name on my tongue adding a slight mer accent. "As long as I remain in the Reach you have my life. To hold. To honor. To protect." I slowly inch my face closer unable to contain a smile. "Guide me well, soldier of fortune," whispering the last word.

His eyes widen still focused on mine, I drop a money pouch filled with the exact amount into his unsuspecting hands. With Vorstag's attention now on the pouch, I straighten my posture and make a graceful stride toward the door. I hardly took three steps before he called out asking for my own name. I almost ignored him just to be a tease, but what would be the point? Maybe because I know that he knows the answer already. Looking over my shoulder, my jeweled eyes meet bronze.

"Kalara."

Before Vorstag can respond, I turn away grabbing my black cloak off a hook and disappear out the door.

* * *

A blast of cold air hits my face as I casually stand outside the inn stretching my lower back. For a rich family you'd think the bloody Silverfishes would invest in better seats. The locals mingling outside are just as jolly and full of drink as the ones inside. I suppose everyone in the city is living it up tonight. Inside the inn, I was too annoyed at the excessive attention, but now that I am getting a breather a second glance at the citizens of Markarth reveal that this is possibly the first form of celebration these people have had in a long time.

As a city.

Together.

Perhaps not since the first time the Forsworn were expelled from the city a decade or so earlier. Now that the conspiracy has been uprooted, people seem to feel safer staying out close to midnight. Drinking and socializing when by now the majority would already be home. My ears perk up as three men burst into laughing hysterics at some crude joke, one bending forward clutching his belly just barely holding onto his bottle. Even the guards seem a bit more at ease. Still tall and stuck up, but their walk is less stiff and hurried. Mystified, I briefly study all the delighted spirits as the smothering jovial atmosphere gives me goosebumps.

All these smiling faces.

Different faces, but a similar essence also carried by the other holds.

And it feels…what's the word…it feels…

Nice.

Another blast of nippy air swirls around my lean form and I pull my cloak tighter. Tugging the hood low over my face, I step out into the streets. Since coming to Skyrim, everything I have done I did solely for my need for power! Yet, almost every quest, personal or otherwise, resulted in making someone happy. From the Jarl to the common farmer! And the peculiar minuscule warmth building in the crevices of my heart is disturbingly satisfying.

I _feel_ good…that _they_ feel good...

"Hey! Hey-hey!"

An intoxicated man leaning up against a wall of stone bellows out at me waving.

"Good job there with em there Forswhooorns!"

For a moment, all I do is stand there dumbly just blinking at him stupidly. I don't know what else to do, but nod at the man. Thankfully, his wife appears at this moment and chastises him for drinking and being noisy in public so late. He then loudly replies how can she complain when what she yearns for most each and every day produces enough _noise_ to wake the neighbors?

Oookay then!

She slaps her drunken husband upside the head. Rolling my eyes, I continue on with my nightly stroll. As I walked on I met fewer and fewer folks, but the ones I did meet were like everyone else. Smiling. Laughing. Relaxed. Like the people of Whiterun and Falkreath after I helped them. When I first came to Skyrim, I had no idea what to expect or what the people would be like. If they'd be accepting or suspicious of a ragged stranger fresh from Morrowind. Especially, one who crossed the border illegally with nothing, but a small iron dagger and worn ugly brown clothes. Then again, I didn't _exactly_ plan to come to Skyrim in the first place. No one ever plans on being kidnapped and whisked away to a foreign country.

This time I cannot mask the paralyzing shiver coursing through my veins. I stumble clutching myself beneath the cloak breathing heavily through my teeth. Anyone who might see me would think it is the chill of the night.

No.

Never.

Nothing can ever be so cold! Just the mere memory-! Of Ice! There was ice everywhere! The stench of death filling my lungs! _It_ screamed! Oh Azura, how _it_ screamed! Helplessly bound-! Touching me-!

"Excuse me."

From the shadows, a hooded man steps in front of me. With a slight shake of my head I pull myself back to the present. Hands at my sides, I flex my fingers keeping perfectly still itching for him to speak his business and be gone.

"Do you know anything about this house? Seen anyone enter or leave?"

I wearily glance to my right at the stone door of the house in question. The entire city is carved into the mountain and just about every home and shop all look alike with the same lackluster golden doors. Maybe it's because I am new and it's dark, but there is nothing remarkable about the house nor any indication it's abandoned. Returning my attention to the man, the soft moonlight reveals his travel worn mage garb. A frequent traveler by the looks of his shabby appearance. Fresh dirt is still caked on his legs and boots and the color of his robe faded to a dullish gray having lost its glamor long ago.

"Why are you asking?"

"My name is Tyranus. I'm with the Vigil of Stendarr. We believe this house might have been used for Daedra worship. Evil rites and so forth."

Oh boy. Look who you are talking to, pal. Repressing the urge to chuckle, I manage to keep a straight face.

"Sorry, don't know anything," I reply honestly.

"I see," the Imperial says disappointed. "I know this is a sudden request, but I was actually just about to head on inside. You are a mage, are you not?" he asks looking over my purple and black master robes peaking out from under my cloak.

"Is the Keeper vigilant?"

Tyranus laughs uncrossing his arms. "Well said, friend. I would be most grateful if you'd accompany me inside. Be good to have someone watch my back."

I am about to kindly refuse when I hear it. The twisted whispers of vile tongues slithering temptations in my ears. Alert, my flesh crawls with anticipation to the sudden appearance of the ominous presence emanating from the house. A darkness I've never sensed before, yet somehow is as familiar as a carnivorous butcher. My hands start to shake and I fight the urge to lick my lip.

The wise thing to do is walk away.

Meanwhile, Tyranus stands idle awaiting my answer.

Unawares.

I didn't realize I was holding my breath until I longingly exhale. Turning to Tyranus, I cannot resist the expectant grin.

"Absolutely."

* * *

High above on a stone walkway, a perched crow with ruffled feathers and a twisted beak witnesses the exchange. Blending into the black night, the crow keeps its anomalous vigil silent and unyielding. Only large misshaped glowing lilac eyes cut through the darkness as the woman entering the abandoned house reflects off its' deadpan orbs.

* * *

I shall do my best to update sooner rather than later, but it will take time. I am working on two stories at once. Thank you for reading and please review I would love to hear all feedback.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

* * *

Nearly an hour past dawn, a well-rested Vorstag is waiting for me at the stables lounging on the hay bales. He perks up as I trudge down the stairs and walks toward me with the stable owner's jaunty dog following close behind.

"Good morning, lass," his smile just as beaming as the irritating sun. "Was beginning to worry about you. Sleep well?"

My only response is a drawn-out tetchy groan.

"Or maybe not," a look of concern replaces his cherry demure as he rests his hands on his hips bending lower to inspect me. "What happened to you?"

"Don't ask," I mutter. Shoulders slouched and arms dangling like a rag doll, my eyes squint struggling to adjust to the bright morning light of the daystar.

"Ooh-ho, now I really wanna know," laughs Vorstag as he straightens tossing a piece of meat across the yard and the shaggy dog gives chase. "I'm sorry I missed it! Must've been quite the excitement."

 _You have no idea, man_.

When Tyranus and I entered the dwelling, it looked like an average home with modest wooden furniture, plenty of fresh food, and a nice fire in the hearth. None of which seemed odd except for an eerie stack of chairs piled on top of each other on a table so high it nearly touched the ceiling. Other than that, everything looked like a mundane cozy little hovel with the owner seeming to have recently stepped out.

Except it was supposed to be abandoned.

The moment we stepped inside we knew immediately there was demonic activity. Thick miasma polluted the air and the pressure in our lungs to take a simple breath was suffocating and the home morphed into a house of horrors! The door bolted on its' own with a loud clank trapping us inside. The walls shook and snarled around us as pots and pans, weaved baskets, a broomstick, a caldron, tables and chairs, a woodcutter's axe, silverware and knives levitated and violently thrown across the room by an unseen force. Some of it directly at us. And inside my head, a deep fiendish voice blared within my mind.

 _Weak_!

My head felt like it was splitting like a melon.

 _He is weak_!

He-?!

 _You are strong!_

But I wasn't.

 _KILL HIM_!

And I did.

The Daedra must have spoken to Tyranus for he said something to me, but I do not recall what. I only remember a tremble in his voice and unsteadily turning on me with glowing raised hands. But I was faster. I threw a fireball at his chest and knocked him off balance then shot another one at him then proceeded to subdue him using sparks magic. He was dead within seconds. If I wasn't guilty of murder before I most certainly am now even if one could argue self-defense.

This time the malevolent voice spoke clear booming off the walls no longer confined in my head. Like a snake, it praised me for my show of strength urging me to follow its' voice to my reward. I complied without resistance witlessly allowing this…thing…to guide me through the house. I want to believe it was solely the miasma clouding my judgement, but that would only be half true. The miasma did have a qualmish effect on my mind and body, but it did not hinder my thirst to discover and possibly possess this source of power. In the storage room in the back of the house was a crudely dug tunnel and the voice beckoning from within. The tunnel was dark and cramped, but only a few paces inside and I stood before a hideous black spiked alter with just an equally hideous old black rusted mace. The sight startled me I had to grab the stonewall to steady myself.

I had never seen this alter or any like it before. Yet, this abhorrent sanctuary was somehow jarringly familiar. It was in the air. So putrid with a heavy aura my mind drifted back to Morrowind in a cavern long, long ago. A cavern that closely resembled the common ancient Nord burial crypts. The smell of fresh decay permanently in the air and blood smeared on the walls.

My focus was on the mace when I approached the shrine half in a daze. It was just perched there all rusted and useless and yet I felt a great need to touch it. An old mace buried deep in a place I've never been on an alter I've never seen and yet…this voice…this distorted presence-

Only when I stepped up to the alter did I finally realize too late. I returned to my senses just as the jaws of a spiked black cage ensnared me in its' mouth. Long and short ugly spikes some jagged others smooth-all equally deadly-shot out from the bars. Instead of skewering me like a caged bird the spikes acted as restraints jabbing into me threatening to pierce my body confining me to stand perfectly still or else risk impalement.

FOOL!

The demonic voice spat followed by the scrape of metal as another spike grew out from the cage, but instead of striking like a viper this one slithered. In the instant the trap was sprung my head ended up stuck facing to the right, so I could hear the spike, but not see it. All the spikes pressing into my head suddenly shifted pulling back as the slithering lone spike found its' way under my chin. It's sharp blade cutting lightly into me as it directed my gaze forward at an upward angle. Gritting my teeth, I'd have shivered if the risk of immediate death weren't eminent. All I could do was breathe and behold the black presence of the dark prince of domination himself.

Molag Bal.

It was a short meeting. It couldn't have been more than five minutes, but it felt like I was trapped there for five hours. His will and desire made clear, and a pledged decreed, the spikes finally receded, and the jaws of the cage quickly snapped open causing me to stumble. I staggered out of the cave and back into the house incoherently exhausted. I collapsed on the nearest bed I found and drifted in and out of consciousness. My brain just would not, or could not, shut off. My heart pounded in my ears. I could feel the heat of my own blood pumping in my veins and the excitement flowing through me, yet mentally I was drained. I've no idea how long I laid there trying to comprehend if the dancing shadows on the ceiling were simply just shadows or the large clawed hand of Oblivion. At some point I did eventually succumb to sleep. When I awoke, I found Tyranus's body just as I left him and could barely look at him. Before heading out, I cremated his remains with lightning magic and disposed the ashes in the hearth.

"Vorstag," rubbing the sleep out of my eyes with the back of my hand as I straighten my posture. "Have you heard any recent tales of kidnappings or missing travelers?"

"Hmm, can't say that I have," his hand resting on his chin in thought. "But it is not uncommon for travelers to mysteriously vanish without a trace. Sometimes it is animals, but mostly it is the doings of the Forsworn, which is why it is safer to always travel in an armed group."

"Do you ever find them? The people taken by Forsworn."

"Most often no," the Nord sighs looking grim. "But a few times we do, at least, what is left of em."

"I see… Even so, it is rare for Forsworns to take prisoners alive, but when they do it is not without purpose." I turn for confirmation from Vorstag who nods.

"Alright then," I say with a resolved sigh as the fatigue gradually leaves my body becoming renewed with purpose. I tug my hood on shading my eyes from the sun and adjust the cloak to casually drape around my shoulders and trail behind me almost like a cape. "So in theory, there is hope of rescue."

"If we know where to look and we are quick enough then yes," replies Vorstag with uncertainty. "But why are you asking?"

"It doesn't matter, let's just go," I hear his large footsteps quickly follow behind to catch up as I make haste down the hill.

About a hundred paces rests a small hard-working mining community just outside of the city. When I first passed by, I was headed to Markarth and did not take much notice. Except now a large restless crowd is gathered across the small stone bridge that connects the community to the road.

"This isn't good," Vorstag appears at my side, his curious gaze focused on the miners.

"What is it?"

"Trouble."

"Pffft! In Skyrim?" I respond mockingly. "You don't say. Well, who woulda thunk it-and just where do you think you're going?"

Without so much as a glance back, Vorstag walks purposefully toward the assembly.

"What are you-hey! Vorstag! Vor-!"

I know he can hear me!

I stand there scowling like a dumbfounded child as my new undisciplined Nord companion ignores any attempt to rein him back in.

"Oh, don't even-we don't have time for this."

He crosses the bridge.

Growling, I begrudgingly follow after Vorstag.

In the center of the gathering, a bloody Orc is supporting another man who looks as if a feeble wind would make him keel over. The worrisome chatter slowly dies as a balding Nord steps into the circle.

"Troll's blood, what happened to you, Pavo?" exclaimed the Nord.

"The Forsworn have taken Kolskeggr Mine. We're the only ones left," the pitiful man called Pavo declares weakly, indicating to himself and his Orc companion. The concerned crowd gasps speaking at once both with each other and to the two injured men pressing for more details. The bald Nord calls for silence, curses, then disperses the ogling group of men and women and sends the two survivors inside to rest. With the show over, I turn back toward the road.

"What's all this about Forsworn?"

 _By Azura_!

Flabbergasted, I spin toward Vorstag who does not face me, but I suspect is fully aware of the daggers my vengeful stare is piercing into the back of his head. The bald Nord turns to Vorstag recognizing him as they briefly exchange pleasantries. The man is called Skaggi Scar-Face and runs the small community known as Left Hand Mine.

"Damn Forsworn!" Skaggi curses again, kicking up dirt and stone with his foot. "Only a matter of time before they hit here too. Those madmen get more bold every season." The troubled Nord confides to Vorstag. "Pavo and Gat are the only survivors. I'll be sending word to the Jarl about this, but I don't know when help will come."

"No need, my friend," Vorstag said grasping the other man's shoulder. "For the Jarl has already commissioned a strong lass for the job."

"Vorstag!"

Two sets of eyes focus on me. Ignoring Skaggi's surprised look, my irritated gaze remains locked on my insubordinate guide who suddenly beams in my direction.

"And here she is," giving the older Nord's shoulder a pat and walks up to me.

"What are you doing?" I say in a low tone.

"We're hunting Forsworn, are we not?" Vorstag explains as if this reasoning is sufficient.

"Vooorstaaaag-!"

"I've known Skaggi a long time," he continues casally. "He's a good man and has good coin."

"I'm sure of it, but that's not the point."

"The mine is nearby-"

"Still not the point."

"It's just down the road," he points in the mine's direction. "Not even a day's walk-"

"Vorstag!"

My commanding tone silences him. I exhale through my nose and recompose myself attempting to speak more civil. "We really don't have time for this."

The Nord's forehead scrunches in confusion as he struggles to comprehend my meaning. "Um, correct me if I'm wrong, lass, but didn't the Jarl assign you to purge the Forsworn threat?"

"No, he assigned me to thin the heard. Wipe out major Forsworn activity, retrieve a family treasure, and kill a dragon. Clearing out a little mine is a job for the guards."

"Normally, I would agree, but it's just as Skaggi said. There's no tellin' how long it will take to gather enough men to take back the mine."

"A minimal of five to eight keen guardsmen should be quite sufficient."

Vorstag runs a hand through his hair trying to downplay his annoyance, but the corners of his mouth slant into a grimace. He checks over his shoulder and gives Skaggi a small wave then turns back looking me straight in the eye.

"Look, this isn't Whiterun or any of the other holds," his voice calm, but firm as he admonishes me. "Unlike the rest of Skyrim, the soldiers of the Reach are spread out to the max. Their primary job is defense of the city and the towns they've no time for questing or clearing out mines that's why they hire sell swords and rangers like me. And you." He leans in his head closer stressing the last point.

"It's not only Skaggi's livelihood at stake here," he continues. "The lives of every man, woman and child depends on these mines. We canna afford to lose a single one to the enemy; whoever that may be."

Although Vorstag never raised his voice he was stern but darkened at the mention of 'the enemy'.

I turn away and spot the shabby workers lingering nearby. Some try to feign not paying us any mind, but there is no mistake in the way they peek over their tense shoulders as they gather their tools and supplies. Others outright stand idle holding their pickaxes and shovels and one steadying an empty wheelbarrow. Muttering and watching.

With a pinch of hope.

I turn back to Vorstag still waiting for my response. Tall and broad, the top of my head barely comes up to his chin. I step around him and stride toward the older Nord and pushback my hood meeting his eyes directly.

"Skaggi of Left Hand Mine. I, Dragonborn Kalara, am at your service."

* * *

I march north alongside a rocky cliff on the cobblestone road toward Kolskeggr Mine. To the right of the road is a ravine with a serene melody of an unhurried river. Blue-gray chunks of mountains cluster the landscape as a magnificent backdrop against a clear blue sky with patches of green vegetation sprouting blue, red, and purple flowers with a blend of snowberries. Little yellow butterflies float from one flower to another on a light brisk breeze, but the chill is dulled by the warm sun.

"We're coming up to the mine. Just around the cliffside."

Oh. Right.

I almost forgot the Nord. I didn't realize how relaxed I was with the scenery until his honeyed drawl ruined it making my back muscles tighten in knots. Why, exactly, was it a good idea to hire him again? Maybe it's my fault for not properly laying down ground rules. Like obedience and calling all the shots. Things that are a given since I'm the buyer!

I come to a sudden stop in the middle of the road.

"Oh-!" startled, Vorstag nearly bumps into me. "Why'd we stop?"

"Let's get something straight," I say with an edge. "You're paid to be my guide and bodyguard. Nothing more nothing less. Got it?"

Before he can answer, I turn around to face him.

"Never. Ever. Do that again."

"You're not seriously mad about taking the job?"

"Yes," looking up at him crossing my arms. "Yes, I am."

"That doesn't make any sense," he says tersely. "You're commissioned to hunt Forsworn. What does it matter?"

"Of course, it matters!" frustrated, I uncross my arms and start down the road again with him following. "I wasn't lying when I said we don't have time. And by ' _we_ ' I mean me. _I_ don't have time."

"What's your rush?" he asks seriously with a sprinkle of humor. "If it's word walls you're so concerned about you don't got anything to fear. It's not as if they're going anywhere."

"This has nothing to do with word walls," I respond impatiently still marching onward. "Although, _that_ is reason enough."

"Then what else is?"

Oh, the usual Daedra dramatics! No big deal or anything.

I may have told Molag Bal I'd find the missing priest of his most hated Daedric rival Boethiah, but I haven't decided what to do _when_ I find him. My promise to bring the priest to the shrine was forced or else I wouldn't have been set free from the cage. Or worse. And then there is the Tribunal to consider who are the gods of the Dunmer. Boethiah is one of them. As a Dunmer, this truth alone means I have more of an obligation to her. But of the Tribunal, it is only Azura I give my heart. It is through Azura I respect Boethiah and Mephala. Yet, does it matter? I only began following Azura within this decade.

Because before Azura was Molag Bal.

He was never spared a thought nor ever worshipped. In fact, I grew up very ignorant about Divines and Daedra. Neither had a place in the cavern. Pure power and domination was the only mantra ever taught. They could believe and pretend there was no higher being above them, but they knew. Thinking back to that time, my parents and their followers had to know he was watching them. Watching me. Casting dark spells and mingling with the obscene, how could the prince not? That same sensation of a thousand tiny spiders crawling on your flesh. I felt it back then. I felt it last night.

He had always been there.

Watching.

Maybe it doesn't matter anymore. What does matter is finding this Logrolf person without delay especially if he really was taken by the Forsworn.

"Kalara!"

Vorstag's strong arm suddenly wraps around my waist slamming me against his chest.

"What are-!"

He turns us sideways into a crouch raising his arm now wielding the shield he's been carrying on his back just in time to block two arrows as savage war cries rise on the wind.

"How many?"

"Two on the road, one on the bridge."

"I've got the bridge," straightening myself I cast stoneflesh encasing every inch of my body in a glowing teal protective armor. "I'll cover you."

Vorstag nods already armed with his axe. I dart out from behind his shield toward the two charging Forsworns both wielding a sword and axe in each hand. I spot the archer on the bridge as another arrow is released and sprint forward avoiding it. The madmen are almost upon me with weapons raised close to perfect alignment with each other. Good enough! I take a deep breath face forward-

"FUS-RO!"

The power of my voice knocks one of them to the ground while the other falls to his knees. Vorstag charges past me toward the men swinging his axe while I head for the bridge. I dodge left and right avoiding more arrows. Raising my fists, I return fire.

Literally.

Flames encasing my hands, fireballs shoot from my fists as I punch through the air directly at the female, but she's fast. Dirt and rock mist in the air as my attacks fail to make contact. She skillfully twists around my fire as if she were dancing her short pelts trailing behind. But that's all she can do. Because the moment she stops she's dead. My hands come together as the flames engulfing them recede down my fingertips and merge into a large fireball between my palms giving the archer a chance to reload. She aims and shoots. I skid to the side still clutching the fiery ball the arrow just narrowly missing my head then look right at her.

"YOL!"

The heat of the word sizzles my tongue as a massive blast of fire bursts forth from my mouth going straight at the woman. She leaps and rolls away as my Thu'um disperses in empty air coming back up in a crouch with another arrow. But I am ready for her. Following her movements, I shoot my fireball at the exact moment she dodges my shout and knock the bitch flat on her ass her bow and arrow flung from her grip. A direct hit! To her credit, she doesn't stay down. I move in closer just as she rises armed with two daggers, but she doesn't stand a chance. Already another fireball forms in my hands this one even bigger, and before she can fully stand I blast it right in her face. Screaming and clawing at her head, the Forsworn female rolls on the ground like a dying worm. I almost hesitate, but even that is cruel. I stretch out my arms with flat hands and finish her off in an endless stream of flames. When the archer's body is crisp and screams no more, I check on Vorstag just in time to see him rip his axe across the neck of his foe nearly decapitating him. The other Forsworn attacker is dead at his feet with his own sword imbedded in his back.

Whoa.

"That didn't take long. Gotta say, I'm impressed," I said as I approach looking over his fresh kill with my hands on my waist.

"You weren't so bad yourself," he replies cleaning off his blade with a pelt belonging to one of the dead men. "I've only heard stories, but to witness the power of the Thu'um in person," he exhales heavily his wonderous gaze meeting mine. "It's quite the experience. You truly are Dragonborn."

I remain silent as Vorstag checks the men's pockets and retrieves his shield before stepping over the bodies toward me.

"How about we try again."

I raise a questioning brow when he smiles offering me his hand.

"Our first fight together. I think we make a good team."

I stare at him unsure of what to say. I look at his hand then back at him before putting my hand in his. My hand is so small when his meaty fingers close around mine. Still smiling, he gives my hand a squeeze before letting go and turns toward a cabin I didn't realize was there.

"This is Pavo's cabin. Entrance to the mine is above," he says pointing where I can see part of a smelter.

I follow Vorstag up a short path on the side of the cliff where a wooden door is partially open. I walk up to the door and recast my armor spell.

"Vorstag?"

Vorstag is still standing on the path with his eyes closed as if he were in meditation. His knuckles almost white as he squeezes his weapon.

"What are you doing?"

"Sorry," his shoulders rising as he breathes slowly. "Just preparing."

Opening his eyes, he joins me in front of the entrance with a determined smile.

"Ready when you are, lass."

I nod carefully pushing open the door wincing as the hinges squeak, and we make our way down the slope of the entryway. Along the wall are torches revealing stacks of boxes, barrels and disarrayed tools and hay scatter throughout the tunnel along with blood spatter on the walls. A pile of four bodies are stacked on top of a wheel barrel like garbage with their throats cut. The dead miners. Vorstag releases a low growl. Keeping low to the shadows, a lone Forsworn, crosses our path carrying ore and dumps it into a box then retreats the way he came. I look back at Vorstag with a finger to my lips then press my hands together as if in prayer. My hands frost over coated in a thin mist as I slowly pull them apart revealing a long ice sickle floating between my palms. The Forsworn comes back carrying more ore dropping it into the box and I take my shot. He crashes into the wall with a loud crunch as his limbs flail like a doll with the ice sickle pierced through his neck.

"Nice," Vorstag whispers.

We move deeper in the mine to a wide spacious room where a large wooden platform is built into the walls leading upward. On the deck is a female Forsworn guard. I bring my hands together forming another ice sickle.

"Who's there?!"

Shit!

I fling the ice nailing her in the shoulder. From the right a man appears drawing his blade and Vorstag runs right at him as more bellows ring through the cave. Going pyro, fire blares from my hands as the woman comes at me despite the shard of ice wedged in her body. She swings her blade as I jump back inhaling-

"YOL!"

She screams stumbling back and I come at her clasping fireballs in each hand. I hurl my fire one after the other exploding against her torso and she falls. From the deck, I see Vorstag locked in combat using his shield to knock back his opponent. My hands come together one above the other creating a large fireball between my palms- A bloodthirsty war cry and pounding feet break my concentration as two Forsworns wielding swords charge at me. The one in the lead is bare-chested and has his face obscured by a deer mask with antlers. I unleash my attack toward him-and miss! The bastard spins never losing his stamina and dodges effortlessly out of the way while the second man runs right into my fireball. The deerfaced one is upon me.

Damn it!

"FUS-ROH!"

He's right in front of me when I shout. Close enough to feel the full impact of my voice. Close enough he should be pushed back. Instead, he merely stumbles as if he hit an invisible wall.

Damn it to hell!

I quickly blast a fireball into his sternum before he fully recovers trying to create distance between us. The woman is back on her feet and I nearly crash into her as she swipes down at me with her blade.

"LIZ!"

My tongue and breath crystalize with the word and my lips become chapped. The female warrior is instantly encased in ice. Her entire body frozen solid with her weapon raised. But only temporary. The deerfaced man charges me again. I drop and roll just as his blade slashes over my head shattering the female's ice prison like bloody glass. Her cry of agony garbled by her own blood as she falls for the last time. Before I can get to my feet, the deerfaced along with his companion corner me.

"FUS-gaahh!"

I manage to utter part of my shout and knock the second man back, but the deerfaced jabs his blade cutting above my shoulder. The blade would have gone right through me if I hadn't slouched when I did. Vorstag rushes in taking the deerface by surprise. He bashes his shield into the deerface's head then blocks an attack from the other man. Rising, I clutch my shoulder with a warm golden glow flowing through my hand partly sealing the wound while Vorstag lashes out at the men like a wild boar. Deerface trips on a rock, and Vorstag hooks his axe to his sword. He twists and yanks the Forsworn's weapon from his grasp then rips his axe across his belly and shoves him away. The deerface grabs his bleeding gut and slumps against the wall. The second man lets out a mad yell and Vorstag jumps out of the way as the man keeps swinging at him. I ignite my flaming fists to assist Vorstag when the mortally wounded deerface rises from the ground. Bleeding heavily from his torn and jagged flesh, the Forsworn stands with clenched fists undeterred.

How is he still alive?

I notice another deep wound on his chest. A giant hole in his left breast where muscle and tissue glisten in the torchlight. But no bleeding. And something else slightly bigger than a fist embedded within his chest. Something solid, but glints like a flame. The deer head slowly looks toward me with a black dead stare. A violet ripple of energy travels up his arms.

Oh, fuck-!

I throw out my arms just as the blast of lightning hits. My fire recedes down my spread fingers vanishing into my knuckles as a ward of light beams from my palms. The power of the attack sends vibrations down my arms. Through the distorted view of the barrier, I can see deerface with his own hands outstretched with lightning energy pumping from his veins. A violet spark saps through my barrier, and I wince as it stings my ear. Already my ward is fading. Gritting my teeth, I push my ward harder closing the small breach.

Come on!

Deerface begins to approach never letting up on his lightning. I glance at the gaping hole in his chest. Any second my barrier will fall. I can feel the shock magic weakening my own. A wonderfully useful, and dangerous, side effect against enemy mages. Except when I'm on the receiving end. Now it's annoying! The tall deerface looms closer. Purple sparks flicker through the ward. I inhale sharply and push my ward harder dispersing the lightning making it off centered. The ward evaporates with a loud pop. Catching him off guard, I unleash my own lightning stream back at him, but it's not enough. Wielding his own ball of lightning he charges and hurls it at me. I dodge it, but I'm still in range and the left side of my body gets hit by the shock. I shake out the spasm in my arm already forming a sphere of lightning. As deerface reaches out to grab me, I unleash the shock magic right into him. He shrieks, ripples of purple electric shock magic stinging all over his body like a thousand wasps.

But suddenly there is a massive flare of pain.

I'm on the ground. And I cannot see.

How did-?! I am screaming!

My head!

It happened so fast I didn't see him. Right after? Or did we attack at the same time? I try to open my eyes, but it only increases the stabbing pain in my head. Before closing my eyes, I saw a large violet ripple streak pass my vision. That bastard-that fucking bastard! He got me in the head! Son of a bitch-!

I convulse on the ground arching my back still crying out. Jolts of lightning rip through me tearing into my bones and tendons even more when I move. I should be dead. Such a powerful direct attack. Why am I not dead? Even my magic isn't fully drained, I can still feel it pulsing through my veins trying to resurface. If not dead, then most certainly I shouldn't be able to connect with my magic. I flinch and cry out as I attempt to curl my fingers. Small little fires burn on my fingertips like candlesticks. A cold hand grips over one of my hands snuffing out the flames as a large jolt is discharged through me. I cry out again feeling my magic weaken and the crippling pain locking my limbs. I open my eyes glaring at death, but deerface rolls me on my stomach pulling my arm behind me-

A rabid roar echoes through the tunnels and something slams into deerface.

The Nord. By Azura, I almost forgot him.

I do not get up. I listen to Vorstag and the Forsworn scuffle on the ground while the shock wears off. Hand on my forehead, I cast a quick healing spell as both a test and to ease my wounds. Standing on shaky legs, my blood boils as strength returns to my inner fire. Neither of the men notice my presence. Vorstag and deerface are too tangled up with each other in blood and dirt for a clean shot. The Forsworn punches Vorstag in the face and jumps on top of him latching his hands around his throat. And the world turns red.

"From the ashes of the pyre, ancestors, grant me your fire!"

I called out in Elvish. From my center a blazing fire emerges and engulfs my entire body. A vengeful red fire from the plains of Oblivion. I lock my arms around the Forsworn's neck and torso and the fire spreads setting him alight. He screams and wildly tries to throw me off. He may be bigger than me and my feet no longer touch the ground, but I am on him like a vice. I can smell his flesh roasting. His skin peeling away. He falls to his knees struggling to get away. I stick my hand through the hole in his breast, and he screams louder. With all my might I tear the bastard's heart out. The Forsworn goes limp and quiet. The moment I let go he crumples face first to the ground. I stand motionless over the corpse the flames on his body slowly fade.

Back on his feet, Vorstag takes a step toward me, but I motion him to stay away. Another minute goes by until the flames surrounding me disperse.

"You alright?" he asks in a sore voice.

I nod taking slow breathes.

"That fire, what was that?"

"Ancestor's Wrath. Daily boon of a Dunmer. Burn anything and anyone for a short time."

He nods rubbing his neck. "I owe you my life."

"And I you," I look down at the corpse. "He was a tough bastard."

"Yes," shaken, Vorstag uses his foot to turn the body over. The deer pelt covering the face is black and mostly burnt away. "He was a Briarheart."

"A Briarheart?"

"A partially undead warrior. Only the best Forsworn are chosen to have their hearts removed and replaced with briar seeds. Hence the name."

Necromancy. Great. I shouldn't be surprised, but a chill goes through me like cold water. Although I am no stranger to dealings with the dead my insides permanently cinch at the mere mention of it. And gods only know how many more are running rampant through the Reach.

"Are all of them this strong?"

"Yes…and no," he shakes his head then looks at me remorsefully. "Forgive me, Kalara, but this is my fault. I should have told you about them sooner, but I didn't expect one to be here."

"What do you mean?"

"Most Briarhearts are found deep in the Reach. Thankfully, they are rarely ever seen near the towns or city, and Pavo's cabin being so close…I am truly, truly sorry," he finishes and bows his head in shame.

"I understand," I say reassuringly. "We all make mistakes, Vorstag, and what matters is we survived. And thank you for saving me."

He rubs his neck still disheartened, but I press on. "What you said just now about their strength. Are they, or are they all not this powerful?"

"All Briarhearts are strong," he continues as he crouches down to the body. "I fight them occasionally, but this one…" he keeps rubbing his neck as his face scrunches in thought. "Something was…different. I'm not sure how to explain it."

"Let me see your injuries," I step up to him with golden hands. A confused look crosses his features when he looks up.

"What's that?"

I forgot I was holding the briar seed. A polished streaked yellow and orange seed shaped like a hardened flame. Vorstag rises taking the seed from me and brings it closer to the light. There is a small incision in the middle of the seed and something glimmering from inside. Vorstag pulls out a dagger and cuts into the incision like an apple and pulls out a crystal shard. A purple crystal shard. The shard itself reminds me of a soulgem. Or at least a piece of one, which I tell Vorstag.

"Are briar seeds supposed to be like that?"

"No," says the Nord quietly studying the shard holding it between his thumb and forefinger. "No, I've never seen anything like this before. I'm not even sure what to make of it."

"You said he was different," I look at the dead Briarheart. "Perhaps even stronger than the others. Might it be possible they are trying to enhance their power?"

Vorstag is silent as he considers the possibility. I look around and spot the other two slain Forsworn he took care of sprawled out in their own blood then back at the Briarheart. Another product of forbidden magic. Doesn't matter where I go, I always seem to find it. Or it finds me. It's warm in the mine, but I feel terribly cold I am almost shaking.

"We're leaving," I command.

Vorstag drops the crystal shard and crushes it with the heel of his boot.

"Couldn't agree more."

* * *

Far across the ravine perched in a naked tree a crow with ruffled feathers and a twisted beak watches a man and woman carefully descend from the mine. Its grotesquely large lilac eyes zoom in on the woman bringing her lean tired face into focus. The eyes shift memorizing every feature the way her thick hair her and gemstones eyes shine in the sunlight. Bright ruby red! And her lips full and dark. The crow watches her walk further away.


End file.
